Part 1
I stuffed up dinner on Saturday night. That's how this story starts.
We went out for takeaway and on the way home, just around the corner from our house, I thought I saw something on the road. It looked like a cat, but a last minute swerve revealed a scared little black dog cowering in the street.
I went back and picked him up. He was friendly, but a bit freaked out. I considered doing a bit of a door-knock, but a man in a hoodie knocking on doors after dark asking about a lost dog isn't going to have too much success. Locating owners, that is. Locating good joints to knock over, well, that's another blog.
So we took him home for the night. He sniffed around, had a wee outside after Charlie showed him how. Charlie was allowed to give him a name and he chose 'Dolphin Seal Man', which was shortened to 'Dolph'. Dolph happily curled up next to us and fell asleep. Not a whimper was heard all night. He got up with me in the morning and noodled around until, sadly, it was time to go daylight door knocking.
I didn't have to go far. I sort of knew which house it would be anyway. You've probably seen ones like it: overgrown yard, scabby cats and broken toys everywhere, kids sitting in the gutters and every couple of weeks it's surrounded by cops. I knocked on that door and a young woman answered.
'I found your dog.'
'Oh.'
I set him down, expecting him to walk inside. He jumped up on me. 'Go on,' I say. 'In you go.'
'He likes you!' The woman doesn't try to pick him up.
I try again to encourage him inside. He noodles off into the garden and out the front gate, which doesn't shut.
When I finally get him back, the woman has gone back inside and shut the door. I knock a lot louder.
'Do you want your dog back?'
'Do you wanna keep him ha ha?'
'Do
you?'
'I don't own him. I don't live here. I'm just lookin' after the place until the owner gets back. I've gotta take a shower and get ready for work.'
'When's the owner getting back?'
'This arvo?'
'Right, I'll bring him back then.'
*slam*
At midday, I knock on the door again. No answer. I pull a (full) rubbish bin up against the gate and put the dog inside. Then I leave.
 |
| He liked our back yard. |
Part 2
Three hours later, Mel bursts into my study.
'I miss Dolph.'
We both do. We've always considered a dog, but it's always been fraught with noise, mess, grass, absence. With Dolph, it just seemed right. He's small, quiet, house-trained, and in need.
But I can't just take someone's dog. I've got to go and ask.
Yesterday, I combed my hair, shined my shoes, picked a bunch of fresh daisies and went a'calling in a horse and carriage.
Just kidding, I took off my fancy-arse work shirt and walked around the corner.
A different young woman was sitting on the fence, smoking a stub and talking with another woman who appeared to have chunks shaved out of her hair and was pushing a shopping trolley half-full of junk.
'How are you going? Do you live here?'
'What? What's going on? What do you want?'
'I brought your little black dog back on the weekend.'
'Yeah, we want that dog back.'
'... Yeah, I brought him back. The woman I spoke to asked if I wanted to keep it, and I was wondering if you still wanted to give it away.'
'Nah, that dog's gone. That's our dog.'
'I'd buy it off you.'
'Give us sum munney ffruit.'
'I don't have any money on me. So, you don't have the dog?'
'Give us money for a root.'
I hung my head and went home.
 |
| We liked him too. |
Maybe we'll see him on the street again.
